Case 8851: The Demise of a Murderess
by Shelly Lane
Summary: After being mauled by the royal guard dogs, Felicia's life as Ratigan's partner in crime flashes before her eyes, and she contemplates what she would do if she had a final chance to make things right. All characters belong to Disney, Eve Titus, and Sir Arthur C. Doyle
1. Introduction:  June 22,1897

**Introduction: June 22, 1897**

"Confound it, Dawson!" Basil sank into his chair as gently as possible. "I have told you thrice already that I am unscathed!"

No one believed him. The sleuth's jacket had been shredded by the rat's claws. Basil's eyes showed agony his pride would not allow his lips to admit. We all knew he was injured, but no one could be sure how badly.

The little girl turned to her father. "Daddy, why won't Mr. Basil let Dr. Dawson take care of his wounds? Is he scared?"

Basil shot her a baleful lower. "I most certainly am not frightened of anything, Miss Flivership."

"Flaversham!" the girl corrected.

He ignored her. "You may rest assured that I would consult a physician if necessary, but as I have said, I am not injured! Furthermore, I shall arrest the next one who remarks on the matter!"

The toymaker changed the subject. "Thank you for saving our lives, Detective."

"Don't mention it." Basil placed a hand on his aching back.

"What do I owe you for taking the case?"

He sighed wearily. "We'll work something out, Flaversham."

I limped away from the window before I was seen. Whoever thought I would visit Baker Street of my own free will? I didn't. At least I hadn't when I woke up this morning. This was the night Ratigan had believed would bring his unofficial coronation. I was supposed to help him "convince" the queen to allow him to rule.

Queen Moustoria is still alive. The legendary Basil of Baker Street saw to it. Eager to assist in the pursuit of justice, Toby had chased me. Only by pure luck had I finally escaped the royal guard dogs, but not before being mauled.

What good was my escape? Perhaps I should have stayed and let them finish killing me. It would have been more merciful than the slow, lingering death I now face. I am in agony. It hurts to move. It almost hurts to think. I don't know how I'll survive until morning.

I suppose I have gotten what I deserve. I wasted my life. I never did one good deed or spoke one kind word to others. That's why I came to Baker Street. When Basil sees my dead body, he will rejoice. I have never brought happiness to others in life, but there's still a chance I can do so in death. This thought comforts me greatly as I prepare to go to my grave.

There's no sense in considering what I would do if my life could be saved and I were given a second chance. I can tell I am already starting to fade. My life flashes before my eyes. I record it here.


	2. Ratigan

**Chapter One: Ratigan**

My earliest memory is being surrounded by my brothers and sisters as we reclined on a velvet cushion. I was the runt, too small and scrawny to impress the humans. When I was just barely old enough to survive without my mother, a rough human hand seized me by the scruff of the neck and tossed me into the frigid rain.

"Leave the runt to starve!" a human voice exclaimed. "Runts never live long anyway!"

I wandered through the streets, cold and lonely. About the time my ribs began to show from hunger, I saw the rat. I was terrified. Mother had warned us that rats kill kittens.

The rat approached. "What's this?" He poked my ribcage. "You're obviously not eating well. You must be a stray." He began smoking a cigarette. "I should probably be merciful enough to put you out of your misery before you eat half my employees."

He suddenly gasped in elation. "Cats eat mice! You could prove useful!" He put his hand on my shoulder. "You have no idea how happy you've made me! What bliss! What felicity!"

The rat thought a moment. "_Felis_ is Latin for _cat_, and _felicity_ is _happiness_. Both would suit you. I believe I'll name you Felicia."

I just stared at him, still frightened. If I had known then who I was dealing with and what he had planned for the rest of my life, I would have turned and run.

"Come along, my Felicia," he coaxed. "Let's get you something to eat."

I was hungry, but I was still scared.

"Come now, my dear. I won't hurt you."

Trembling, I followed him to where a rowdy bunch of mice were drinking liquor.

"My brothers," the rat began, "we will now be able to murder whoever we wish without that idiot Basil interfering with our plans! We have a way to dispose of the bodies without leaving any traces!"

The criminals cheered. A few seconds later, the rat dropped a dead mouse at my feet.

"A little snack for you!" he exclaimed proudly. "I drowned it myself last night!"

I stared at the dead mouse, actually feeling sorry for it. Surely this psycho rat didn't expect me to eat the deceased creature!

"Try it!" he encouraged. "All cats love mice!"

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I put the mouse into my mouth.

"Isn't it delicious?" The rat beamed. "What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought that was the most vile, disgusting garbage I'd ever tasted! Immediately I spit it out.

The rat scowled. "Don't you like mice?"

Too afraid to talk, I mewed.

"Listen, you useless creature! You're so ugly that no humans will ever want you as their pet! I am your only hope! As long as you do exactly what I say, I will make sure you are well fed, but you have no chance of survival without me!" The rat's tirade was one he would repeat often over the years, and I always believed it with all my heart.

He shoved the dead mouse into my mouth, and once again I spit it out. The rat looked like he was about to lose his temper, but he suddenly had an idea.

"Would you eat it if I cooked it first? Would that make it better?"

I mewed again.

"Bartholomew!" the rat shouted.

Another mouse came running. "Yes, Mr. Ratigan?"

"Cook this and feed it to the kitten."

Bartholomew suddenly looked nauseous. I didn't blame him. He was being commanded to cook a member of his own species to teach me to develop a taste for it. I kind of felt sorry for this Bartholomew guy, but I didn't care much for Mr. Ratigan.

When a bat brought me the cooked mouse a few minutes later, he explained, "Bartholomew seasoned it with basil."

I took a tiny bite. The meat was tender, and the taste wasn't bad. Being hungry, I swallowed the rest whole.

The ruffians cringed as Mr. Ratigan applauded. "My princess likes the taste of mice!" He laughed wickedly, which was not at all pleasant to hear. "It seems she also likes the taste of basil!"

I didn't understand the double meaning at the time. I just thought Mr. Ratigan was mispronouncing the name of the seasoning.

A lot of things were different back then. Bartholomew had never touched alcoholic drinks. Fidget was able to fly and did not yet have his peg leg. Mr. Ratigan had not yet earned the title "Professor," nor was he worthy to be called "the world's greatest criminal mind." The thugs used to sing about him behind his back:

_From the brain that botched up the Big Ben Blunder_

_That had all the city's sleuths smirking (No wonder!)_

_And such errors like the Tower Bridge Joke_

_That made many Londoners laugh as they spoke_

Ratigan tried to be a criminal mastermind, but he was better suited for the role of comedy relief for law enforcement officials. The "Big Ben Caper" he bragged about so often was not as successful as he made it sound, nor was it a grand scheme. His plan was simple: kidnap widows and orphans, take them up in his flying machine, and threaten to drop them from Big Ben into the Thames unless he was given a vast amount of money. His plan might have worked if the police hadn't arrived and rescued the widows and orphans while Ratigan was making repairs on the flying machine like he should have done the night before.

The "Tower Bridge Job" was supposed to involve theft and murder simultaneously in some manner, but several members of Scotland Yard had caught Ratigan for interrogation. He was released, but his plan was ruined.

"Don't feel bad!" Bartholomew had comforted. "We can still pretend like you succeeded. All you need to be a good criminal is a reputation as such. We can say you caused Big Ben to stop working or that you drowned the widows and orphans like you intended, and we can make up our own story about the Tower Bridge Job."

Ratigan was appeased. "Oh my dear Bartholomew, whatever would I do without you? You're one of my closest friends, you know!"

I learned later how dangerous it was to be one of Ratigan's closest friends. None of them seemed to have any luck. Ratigan used to be best friends with a mouse.


	3. Basil

**Chapter Two: Basil**

They weren't always enemies. When Ratigan was a child, Basil was his best friend. They were so close that their amity was the talk of the neighborhood. Each trusted the other like a brother. Basil would have Ratigan captivated for hours by tales of the great human detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"And someday," Basil would always conclude, "I want to be just like him!"

"You'd make a first-rate detective!" Ratigan would compliment. "Promise that you'd be willing to take my case if I ever knew somebody who committed a crime!"

"Of course!" Basil would agree readily.

They would always shake on it. The only rivalry between them was when they played chess, for both were geniuses. It was a quite a challenge for them to try to outwit each other. Both could defeat anyone else easily. However, even the competition between Basil and Ratigan was good natured, and the friends proved gracious as both winners and losers, always congratulating each other's moves and giving each other advice during the game.

Starting a career does not guarantee immediate wealth. The companions both suffered from poverty in their early adulthood. Basil was able to find a small job. The pay wasn't much, but it was enough for him to meet his needs and continue his education. Ratigan began stealing food from humans. He soon realized that stealing what he wanted was easier than working for it. No prizes for guessing how he accumulated his wealth.

Many citizens of Mousedom say Ratigan's first murder occurred in a bar when he lost his temper. They say he enjoyed the power he had over the lives of others rather than suffering from the guilt of killing someone. I beg to differ. He may have relished the experience, and he certainly may have slain his first victim in a bar, but that was not his first murder. His first murder was his worst ever, for by turning to a life of crime, he had killed his friendship with Basil. Even the other criminals couldn't believe someone would destroy a lifelong friendship like that, especially the kind that everyone prays to find but almost no one has the chance to receive.

Basil took it hard. It hurt him so much to lose a friend that he never allowed anyone else to get close to him again. It's no secret that Basil's a loner. The only mystery was how he became that way.

Finally, Basil opened his heart just enough to allow someone to help him on cases, even though they were not overly chummy. His partner came in the form of an excitable but rather obtuse puppy. I disliked Toby immensely from the day I first met him.

I had been admiring myself in a puddle from a recent rainstorm. I was still a kitten, but I was no longer the same starving wretch that had followed a sewer rat to his lair. Ratigan, very nearly a professor by now, had been using his murder victims in different recipes to train my taste buds to enjoy the flavor of small rodents. Each time, he spent less and less time cooking them, for he wished me to develop a taste for raw mice. The signal that my dinner was ready was the ringing of a small bell. All the dinners had been beneficial. My ribs no longer protruded blatantly. On the other hand, I was still very sleek and trim. Looking at my reflection, I realized I was pretty. Any human would be proud to have me for a pet.

I contemplated escaping from this psycho rat and his gang of thugs. I would not be on my own for more than a day or two before a human adopted me. There was nothing I wanted more than the affection of my own human companion.

It was then that I heard the barking of a dog. I turned to see a puppy running up to me.

I purred. "Hello! I'm Felicia! Would you like to be friends?"

The puppy wagged his tail. "I'm Toby. I'd love to be friends! Want to play?"

"What games do puppies like?"

"We like to chase each other!"

"Okay!"

I let Toby chase me. We were having fun until Ratigan put an end to it.

"Felicia! Come over here at once!"

I walked over to him. I still hadn't let him know that cats can talk, just like rodents can, so I kept silent.

"Miserable creature!" Ratigan scolded. "You owe everything to me! You are ungrateful! I am giving you food so you won't be so hideously thin, and you are exercising to burn off the calories you so desperately need! Furthermore, you are a disgrace! You shame me! A true friend of mine wouldn't associate with any associate of Basil's! A criminal's cat should not be friends with a detective's dog!" He upbraided and insulted me for ten minutes.

"Felicia," he concluded. "I'm just saying this because I love you. I demand the best pet ever, and I deserve nothing less. You must show your affection for me by obeying my every whim. I do not give orders out of selfish pride. They are to show how much I care about you. Do you understand?"

Even at my young age, his logic made no sense, but I was too afraid to say anything. Besides, I supposed I would understand better when I was older. More than anything, I wanted Ratigan to stop being mad at me, so I mewed in submission.

He understood my tone. "You seem to have learned your lesson. Now see that you remember it! Next time I have to remind you of your own uselessness, there will be serious consequences!"

He meant it. The penalty for not arriving within thirty seconds after hearing the bell ring was loss of all food for twenty-four hours. Punishment for accidentally stepping on his tail once was having my tail placed in a mouse trap. I only hissed at Ratigan once. His response was to order the henchmen to tie me up and then put his teeth and claws to work making me sorry for threatening him. When his henchmen were listening, I was "sweetheart" or other terms of endearment. When no one else could see or hear us, I was "ingrate," among other insults.

It was different with Toby. Basil sometimes lost his temper with the puppy, but there were never any affronts in his reprimands. The detective also made sure to praise the puppy for correct actions. Furthermore, Toby also had his own human to give him affection. He had a bright future as a sleuthhound, and I envied him so much.


	4. Bartholomew

**Chapter Three: Bartholomew**

He didn't deserve to die. Imagine the perfect combination of cunning sycophancy and true friendship, and that was Bartholomew. When one of Ratigan's harangues had concluded with the rat's claws swiping my nose and the pads of my paws, Bartholomew had put his skills to use.

"Boss," he began, "I greatly admire the way you showed that worthless cat who is truly the great criminal mastermind!"

Ratigan lit a cigarette. "Yes! That was clever of me, wasn't it?"

"I wish I could have helped!" Bartholomew added. "Rubbed salt in the wounds, so to speak! But I understand that I am unworthy."

"Salt in the wounds?" Ratigan asked. "Why, Bartholomew! That would be just the thing! I knew there was a reason I chose you as one of my favorites! Out of all who work for me, you truly are my best henchman! Go rub salt in the scratches I gave Felicia, and enjoy yourself! You deserve to have fun, my dear friend!"

"Thank you, boss!"

Bartholomew walked over to me and whispered, "Something to ease your discomfort, Felicia. Stay still, but yowl pathetically like I am administering salt. It's only to fool Ratigan. It won't really hurt you."

I did my best to sound like I was in torment while he gently applied something that assuaged my pain.

"There now. Do you feel a little better?" he whispered. "We victims of Ratigan have to look out for each other."

I softly purred, causing him to smile.

Loud enough for Ratigan to hear, Bartholomew exclaimed, "This is what you deserve for upsetting the boss!" He winked at me.

I winked back to show I understood.

Ratigan came over to me. "Oh, dearest one, I hate it when I have to punish you! It causes my heart great torment and deprives me of sleep for many nights!"

I struggled to suppress my anger at his lies.

"I love you, my dearest, sweet darling!" He attempted to embrace me, but I was too tall. "My precious pet! My princess! My baby! My little honey bun!"

This from someone who only moments ago had shredded me with his claws and was willing to have the injuries salted!

The next day, Bartholomew spoke words of comfort to me. "I know you tremble in fear of the criminal mastermind. It's not anything to be ashamed of. We're all scared of him." He held out a bow. "May I put this in your hair?"

I held out a paw. He climbed on, and I slowly raised him to my head. While he worked, Bartholomew explained that he had no brothers, so since he was the youngest child in his family, his many sisters had forced him to learn the skill of a hairdresser. The other boys in the neighborhood had teased him mercilessly.

"I hated my sisters for it," he concluded, "but now I'd give anything for the chance to style their hair again. You see, Ratigan killed my family so he could seize our vast fortune. He left me alive so I could serve him. I never wanted to be a criminal, but agreeing to this lifestyle was the only way Ratigan would let me live."

The anger in Bartholomew's voice startled me, for he was usually so soft spoken. "Mark my words! He isn't half the gentleman he pretends to be! He's nothing but a murderous sewer rat!"

His tone softened again. "But one day I'll escape, and I'll have a good life with a respectable career and my own wife and children."

When I answered him, I noticed that my mews were starting to sound more like meows. I still gave no indication that I could speak the same way they could.

"You must learn to ignore Ratigan," Bartholomew continued. "You can't take his lies to heart. When he belittles you, he only proves his inner blindness. He can't see how amazing you really are, and he's trying to make sure you can't see it either. You must never believe him, Felicia."

Having finished his work, he instructed me to look at my reflection. I caught sight of myself in one of the many jewels that Ratigan used to decorate his lair. I looked even better with the bow.

"See? You're pretty," Bartholomew stated. "What are you doing working for the world's greatest criminal rat? You have a gentle spirit, a sharp mind, and good looks. You'd make an excellent companion for a human who would give you the proper care you deserve."

Unused to being complimented, I purred. Ratigan happened to walk by at just that moment.

"Bartholomew!" he gasped. "How did you get her to purr? She never purrs for me!"

"I just showed her who's boss!" Bartholomew replied.

Perhaps it was because he missed his own sisters, but for whatever reason, Bartholomew became like a brother to me. We were both trapped as victims of Ratigan's pugnacious truculence. Neither of us had chosen this lifestyle. Once when Ratigan was punishing me by withholding food, Bartholomew managed to sneak me a few sardines. It wasn't enough to ease my hunger pangs, but his kindness touched my heart. I knew other cats would laugh at me if they knew I was friends with a mouse, but I didn't care.

One day, Bartholomew had news. "Mr. Ratigan" had officially become "Professor Ratigan." Ratigan was proud of himself and had a celebration planned in his own honor. As a surprise to please his boss, Bartholomew had suggested that all the thugs perform a song.

Professor Ratigan poured himself a glass of his finest champagne and began singing his favorite song. It was to the tune of the song the other crooks used to taunt him with, but instead of describing failures, he sang as if all his crimes had been successful, even though very few ever had been.

After singing proudly at the top of his lungs, he concluded with the often heard lyrics: "My earlier crimes were fine for their times, but now that I'm at it again, and even grimmer plot has been simmering in my great criminal brain!"

He thought that was the end of the song, but the other criminals began singing on cue:

_Even meaner? You mean it?_

_Worse than the widows and orphans you drowned?_

_You're the best of the worst around_

_Oh, Ratigan! Oh, Ratigan!_

_The rest fall behind_

_To Ratigan! To Ratigan!_

_The world's greatest criminal mind!_

_Oh, Ratigan! Oh, Ratigan!_

_You're tops, and that's that!_

_To Ratigan! To Ratigan!_

_To Ratigan we all tip our hats!_

Ratigan smiled. "For me? I'm deeply moved! Thank you!"

When he learned Bartholomew had thought of the lyrics and the tune, the rat insisted on sharing his champagne with my friend.

"I'm flattered, boss, but I don't drink," Bartholomew explained.

Ratigan gasped. "What do you mean you don't drink? Everybody loves champagne!"

"I'm sure it's wonderful, but I've never…"

"Drink it." Ratigan handed him a glass. "I insist."

The professor's tone was friendly, but his eyes warned against argument.

That was the night Bartholomew died. Almost everyone thinks his death was yesterday, on the 21st of June in the year 1897, but the champagne flavored mouse I ate was not Bartholomew. My "tasty treat" was merely a shadow of who Bartholomew used to be, just as I am a mere shadow of the happy kitten I used to be.

Ratigan taught Bartholomew to enjoy drinking, just as he had taught me to like the taste of dead mice. Soon my former friend couldn't get enough champagne. His clever mind dulled, and his kind heart cared for nothing but liquor. The alcohol took control of his life and destroyed him in more ways than one. The mouse who was executed for insulting Ratigan in a drunken stupor was not the same one who first put a bow in my hair, but I still don't blame him. He was just Ratigan's victim, as I was, and he didn't deserve to die.


	5. Fidget

**Chapter Four: Fidget**

About the time Bartholomew was first developing his taste for champagne, I noticed that I too was changing. At first I thought I was merely having a bad day and dismissed the idea that anything was seriously wrong, but a fortnight passed without bringing any improvement to my mood. Hatred burned within me. I despised the human who had thrown me out in the rain when I was a kitten, and I abhorred the despicable rat who had seized control of my life.

Of course! That was my answer! Years of hostility and anger had made me bitter, and that acrimony was destroying what little good nature I still had. It poisoned the friendly kitten I used to be, forming a belligerent cat.

Toby once came to visit me. "It's not too late. You could still be a good cat, a good friend, a good pet to an affectionate human."

I wanted with all my being to believe him, but there was no turning back. My former kindness was merely a distant memory, soon to be forgotten entirely. Ratigan had won. He had murdered any potential happiness in my future and turned me into a true villainess, the perfect accomplice for his heinous misdeeds.

It was in this state of mind that I committed my first crime. Fidget swooped down from the sky and stood beside me.

He laughed. "Great day to fly! I always love flying! Don't know what I'd do if I couldn't!"

Until now, Fidget's incessant jabbering had never bothered me, but when he hung upside down from my ears, I lost my temper. Before Fidget could fly away, I grabbed him and shoved him into my mouth. His screams of protest brought Ratigan running.

"What in the name of James Moriarty…?" He gasped. "Felicia! Spit him out at once!"

I opened my mouth, and Fidget tumbled out. One of his wings was bent at an unusual angle, and one of his feet was missing. I suppose I swallowed it.

Fidget managed to drag himself behind Ratigan. "Your pet's a monster, boss!"

For the first time in my life, I didn't cower before the rat.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Ratigan began to laugh in wicked triumph. "My Felicia has malevolence in her heart! She's not so compassionate anymore! Her heart is as dark as mine!"

He patted my head. "I knew you'd learn eventually! Daddy is so proud of his little sweetie pie! She has no idea how happy she has made him!"

Summoning all the henchmen to stand before me, Ratigan stated, "In the future, this will only happen when someone upsets me, but this is the day Felicia has become truly wicked, so we're having a little celebration!"

He rang the bell and turned to me. "Take your pick. You may have whichever one you want. They'll keep silent and not try to influence your decision."

I was trying to choose between two of the henchmen when Ratigan put his hand on my shoulder. "Having trouble making your choice? They both look tender and juicy, don't they? Why don't you eat them both since this is a special day in your honor, my angel?"

After I ate my first two live mice, none of the crooks ever trusted me again. Fidget's days of walking properly or flying were over, and he never forgave me, but I didn't care. I can't say I envied him when he was introduced to Ratigan's healthcare plan: the other crooks held him down while Ratigan personally readjusted Fidget's wing. Although he knew how to plan the cruelest forms of torture, the rat didn't have the first clue how to reset bones properly, but he even cauterized what remained of Fidget's leg to stop the bleeding. Fidget screamed in agony throughout the entire procedure, and the other criminals offered their most sincere pity. There was a time in my life when this horrible scene would have touched my heart, but that was all in the past. As I listened, I realized I enjoyed the screams of those in torment. I was becoming more like Ratigan every day.

Fidget rested for a full week. He would have rested longer if Ratigan hadn't threatened to ring the bell unless Fidget could prove he wasn't a useless burden. Every day, Fidget would exercise to become agile. It was difficult for him, but realizing it meant his life, he trained harder and harder. Eventually he was able to climb and leap in ways the other thugs couldn't, even though he had a crippled wing and a peg leg. Ratigan was impressed and put Fidget's skills to use. Whenever Ratigan needed someone kidnapped, Fidget was the one he ordered to do it, for the bat could avoid law enforcement officials with very little effort. The only problem was that Fidget had a bad habit of accidentally leaving behind evidence at the crime scene, causing some of Ratigan's best plans to be thwarted by Basil.

I never learned my first victim's real name. Ratigan had always called him "Fidget" because the bat couldn't keep still for over thirty seconds unless he was asleep.

Shortly after he fed me two of his ruffians, Ratigan began insisting that I accompany him on crimes. He fed me hostages and witnesses. After I ate three police officers who caught him in the act of arson, Ratigan made sure I always had anything I could ever want. Although he still ignored me most of the time, only paying me any attention when it was convenient for him or after I had eaten someone, the rat's invectives and cruel punishments had ended. The thugs were ordered to cater to my every whim. I slept on silk pillows and was given all the milk and cream I desired. My bow was arranged daily in my hair to make sure I always looked my best, and the ruffians took turns keeping me company. I had been too skinny all my life, but this pampered, inactive lifestyle took its toll on my formerly trim figure. I still didn't talk to anyone. After a lifetime of not speaking, I was used to the silence.

When Ratigan did pay attention to me, it was only long enough to give me a quick compliment or term of endearment, usually to annoy his henchmen; however, he seemed a bit more fond of me. "You're not just my pet cat anymore. You're my partner in crime!"

Every now and then, he would say, "You see how successful we are together, my rare gem? Without me, my priceless treasure, you would be a stray eating out of the garbage, and without you, my perfect jewel, I would never have been able to seize power!"

When he put it that way, it made sense not to eat him, even though the thought had crossed my mind a few times. We were a team. I helped him become the world's greatest criminal rat. He would tell me about his schemes, and I would meow if I thought something was a good idea and purr if I thought his plan was perfect. Through our combined efforts, Ratigan got everything he wanted. With time, his plots became more elaborate and successful. Soon everyone in Mousedom trembled at the mere mention of his name, and no sound was feared more than the gentle ringing of a small bell.


	6. Flaversham

**Chapter Five: Flaversham**

Life was hard for Ratigan's thugs. The ruffians did what they could to avoid me. The majority of them spent most of their time in pubs, drinking and smoking while playing cards and making nuisances of themselves. When at Ratigan's secret lair, they had to light his cigarettes and invent ways to keep him entertained. Many juggled or performed acrobatics. No matter how they chose to spend their time, all crooks had to be ready at a moment's notice to do Ratigan's bidding. The most feared criminal mastermind in Mousedom waited for no one. Those who were tardy by so much as fifteen seconds joined me for my next meal.

Ratigan clearly enjoyed his success as the most feared criminal mastermind in Mousedom. He sang his favorite song with his henchmen before every crime. Every week, he added to his already vast fortune. In a cruel twist of fate, those who have everything they desire are often the least content, and Ratigan was no exception.

"I've already committed every possible crime I can imagine!" he complained one day. "There are no new challenges! No opportunities to try a different style of creativity!"

"That's because you're king of criminals, boss," Fidget replied.

Ratigan gasped. "The king?" He laughed wickedly. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that sooner?! We must hurry! This would be the perfect year!"

The year of 1897 was indeed perfect for Ratigan's scheme, for Queen Moustoria was to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee that June. The cruel irony of usurpation on the night of the queen's celebration was irresistible to the future tyrant of Mousedom, but all his efforts to think of his most brilliant plot ever were in vain.

"Too bad she won't just give you the throne!" Fidget joked.

Ratigan pondered the idea. "Maybe she will! There must be a way!" He thought harder. "Make a puppet of her! I need to visualize this clever plan!"

The ruffians made a hideous puppet from an old stocking. It looked nothing like the mouse queen.

The sewer rat scowled. "What is this?! Do you want me to fail?! A robot could follow my simple instructions better than you imbeciles!" After a brief pause, he started laughing. "A robot! That's it! All of you visit a different toy store. Pretend to be fathers and uncles purchasing gifts for small children, and bring me back the toys!"

Ratigan often used toys to lure children into being hostages, but this time when the toys were brought, he carefully inspected each one. Finally he chose a favorite.

"I greatly admire this craftsmanship!" he exclaimed. "Whoever made this must be the finest toymaker in the empire!"

"His name's Flaversham," one of the thugs stated. "He lives in London with his daughter."

"I see. And does this Mr. Flaversham have any other family members or perhaps some close friends who would notice if he were to disappear?" Ratigan asked.

"No, Professor. Everyone else he knows is in Scotland."

"Is the daughter old enough to summon the police?"

"She's only a young child, sir. She couldn't interfere."

Ratigan nodded his approval. "A young child would also make excellent motivation if Flaversham refused to cooperate. Basil has no use for toymakers. Flaversham knows no one here. This could work out nicely!" He crossed his arms in front of him. "Now, can anyone tell me what day this is?"

"It is the fourth day of June, Professor."

The rat held out a cigarette, which his thugs lit for him. "I have two weeks to find a crown, a scepter, and a mantle. Of course, I'll need some fake medals to look as if I've been highly honored, and someone will have to write a list of new laws as I dictate them. If I spend a fortnight like this, that will make the date June 18, meaning I'll have three days to practice my speech and tie up loose ends before June 21. That's the day before the Jubilee, so that shall be the day we kidnap Flaversham! Surely such a talented toymaker can build our robot by the night of June 22."

This June was truly the best one of Ratigan's life. Everything went according to plan.

Ratigan brought Flaversham before me yesterday and gave a small speech. "Mr. Flaversham, you are no doubt wondering why you are here. I shall be glad to explain, but first allow me to make introductions. This is Felicia. She just loves mice! Oh, but you don't need to be scared of her! She never eats until I ring this bell!" He held up the bell for emphasis. "Do I make myself clear, Flaversham?"

Flaversham clasped his hands together to keep them from trembling. His face was pale as he answered, "Yes, Professor."

"Excellent! Now, as you know, you are the most accomplished toymaker my henchmen could find! I am entrusting you to build a robot for me! Make it look exactly like the queen, and make it sound like the queen when somebody talks into a speaker. You won't fail me, will you, Flaversham?!"

"I won't fail, sir," he promised.

This promise was soon forgotten. He was willing to die rather than be a part of Ratigan's cruelty, but the soon-to-be king was very persuasive. Ratigan told Flaversham in no uncertain terms that unless the robot was finished on time, the little girl would be killed.

Flaversham loved his daughter the way no one ever loved me. He vowed to do whatever it took to keep her alive, and he worked with the diligence that only comes from caring about someone else more than you care about yourself. As I watched him work, I momentarily wondered if I could ever love someone the way he loved Olivia. Then I immediately dismissed the thought and was once more the heartless villainess I had been trained all my life to be.

As Ratigan once more sang his favorite song with the other scoundrels, sipping pink champagne and pouring his entire heart into an impressive display of choreography, he didn't have a worry in the world. That was a mistake. As he burned a newspaper with his cigarette and caused Bartholomew's demise, he had no way of knowing the worst news of all, the only news that could ruin his plans: Basil was on the case.


	7. Olivia

**Chapter Six: Olivia**

When Ratigan finally got word that the great mouse detective was on his case, he almost had a heart attack. He blamed Fidget when he really should have blamed himself.

I nearly smiled at the situation. Only moments before, Ratigan had proclaimed, "This time nothing, not even Basil can stand in my way!" yet when he learned Basil was attempting to foil him, the rat acted like all his plans were ruined. "What?! Basil on the case?!"

That was typical. Ratigan always went from one extreme to the other. There was nothing in between.

Regaining control of his temper, Ratigan gently picked up Fidget and carried him to where I was napping. I suddenly woke to the sound of the bell. While Fidget protested, I attempted to eat him. I'd forgotten about Fidget's agility. Life with Ratigan had toughened him. He could fight with more than just snide remarks. I wasn't quite used to snacks that were hard to munch. Most of mine had been either paralyzed with fear, tied up, or too injured to move. While Fidget and I struggled, Ratigan attempted to clear his mind.

"How dare that idiot Basil poke his stupid nose into my wonderful scheme and foul up everything?! Oh, I can just see that insufferable grin on his smug face!" Ratigan suddenly found inspiration for an idea. "Yes! Yes! I can just see it!" He laughed.

I was just about to swallow Fidget when I received the most unusual order in the history of my life.

"Felicia, release him."

I hesitated for a few seconds, not wanting to give up a prize so difficult to gain, but I knew I had no choice. No one dares to defy Ratigan, not even his favored pet. With many regrets, I spit out the gibbering bat.

Before the rat passed out the uniforms to his ruffians and commanded one of the crooks to take the tools and gears to Mr. Flaversham, he had brought the girl to where I was relaxing.

"If your father doesn't do as I say or if you give me any trouble, yesterday was your _last_ birthday!" Ratigan told her.

The girl's eyes had been with fright as Fidget seized her and followed Ratigan to where Flaversham was working on the robot, and it goes without saying how much she protested when the bat crammed her into an empty bottle.

Ratigan did very little work on this, the most important day of his life, the epitome of his criminal record. However, he made sure to supervise and saw to it that every last detail was perfect.

"Is the anvil ready?...No! That angle will never do for the crossbow!... Where's the gun?! I specifically told you to have it here before I brought in the mousetrap!...Are you sure we have enough rope?...Fidget, are you ready to help me record the music?...Someone make sure Flaversham's still working!" He sighed. "All this must be finished by tonight!"

Today was the worst day of Basil's life. When he found our secret lair, the thugs were ready for him. A banner unfurled and balloons were released. After Ratigan gloated a while, he ordered his ruffians to tie up Basil and the chubby mouse with him.

"Put them on the mousetrap!" Ratigan chuckled. "But first, I will ask Basil to sing with me! Oh, he's such a great musician on his little violin!" With that, Ratigan began his song:

_With the super sleuth who solved several cases_

_Not many in Mousedom would wish to trade places_

_He just realized that this is the end_

_For him and his exceedingly chubby friend_

_He thought he'd apprehend me_

_But this was not meant to be_

_I hold in my soul_

_A need for control_

_And crave power in my heart, so_

_With deepest malice_

_It's to the palace known_

_As "Buckingham" that I go_

"Say it, Basil!" Ratigan kicked him in the ribs. "Admit I'm more clever than you'll ever be!"

Basil sighed dejectedly and began singing quietly.

Ratigan kicked him again. "Louder, Basil! And with more enthusiasm!"

The greatest detective in all Mousedom started again:

_Even better?_

_You bet it!_

_Bested by the best, I'm forced to admit_

_I'm outmatched by his matchless wit_

_Oh, Ratigan! Oh, Ratigan!_

_I have come to find_

_That, Ratigan, yours, Ratigan_

_Is the far superior mind!_

As Basil sang, Ratigan laughed and occasionally interjected, "Yes!" After the song, the rat grinned. "Thank you, Basil. That was very touching! You've got such a wonderful singing voice!"

Ratigan's crooks tied Basil to the mousetrap. Everything was going according to Ratigan's plan. Nothing had been left undone. As the rat bade farewell to his nemesis for a final time, the henchmen climbed onto my back, and I took them to Buckingham Palace.

"I can't believe we're being forced to go with the cat!" one of them complained. "Stupid creature!"

"Ugly monster!" a second exclaimed.

"Overweight murderess!"

Believe me when I say they almost didn't survive the journey, but then I remembered all the unkind things Ratigan had called me throughout the course of my lifetime. Insults were nothing new. I could handle derogatory remarks.

Upon arriving at the palace, I let the criminals off at the front gate. I then took my place under the queen's balcony and waited for Fidget. After a few minutes, I heard the bell ring. I told myself it would not be much longer, and shortly afterwards, I saw Fidget begin to make his way down the hall with his hostage, Queen Moustoria herself. I licked my lips in anticipation of committing high treason.

I don't know how it happened, but just as I was about to be given my royal snack, Basil suddenly appeared. I'll never know how he managed to escape Ratigan's trap, but I didn't have time to wonder because Toby was with him. I'd often envied Toby and the way he and Basil shared companionship without competition, but there was no time for that. The detective's dog desired to clobber a criminal's cat, so I was forced to flee, but I made the mistake of leaping into the royal guard dogs' enclosure.

After being viciously attacked and narrowly escaping the dogs, I got to see Ratigan one last time. He had fallen from Big Ben, where he had been fighting with Basil.

No one will ever know what truly happened. Some Londoners may claim Ratigan survived and returned to his life of crime. Others will say he lived and reformed his ways, never again to commit another depravity, eventually becoming a pillar of the community. There will always be those who insist that Ratigan fell to his death that night.

Let me assure you that none of these assumptions are entirely accurate. I was there. I saw what happened.

Miraculously, Ratigan somehow survived the fall unscathed. I never figured out how he did it, but I wasn't surprised. He was a genius, after all.

He saw me limp to where he hid. "My Felicia!"

If he had known what would happen next, he wouldn't have run to embrace me. His gloves, cape, and boots had been lost. Without the proper attire of a gentleman, he greatly resembled the contemptible rat that he was. When I looked at him, I remembered him as the destroyer of lives and killer of dreams, the one who had been so cruel to me throughout my youth and poisoned my heart with his own malice. I recalled how he had no use for me unless he thought he would benefit from my company and how all his affection and words of praise had been fallacies. I saw before me the one who had brought me to ruin. He had taken my life from me, and it was high time I returned the favor.

For a moment, I tried to revive my conscience. After all, Ratigan had raised me. Surely I should feel just a trace of guilt or at least pity for what I was about to do.

Try as I might, I felt none. The only shame I felt was that I hadn't thought of this years ago. In honor of my master's false friendship for me, I purred for him. Then I gingerly scooped him up and raised him to my face.

Knowing this would be the last time we would ever meet, I spoke my first and final words to him. "Goodbye so soon, and isn't this a crime?"

I relished the shock and horror that came over his face as I committed my final crime. I wasn't sure whether it would be considered betrayal or vengeance, but either was fine with me. He had taught me how to handle anyone who opposed me, and I had learned well.

I had eaten countless mice. A few times, I almost ate a bat. Once I even came close to eating a lizard, but never before had I eaten a rat. He was delicious.

When it was over, I tried again to feel some emotion. Could I not at least feel sympathy, or perhaps regret that it had to end this way?

Not at all! What I felt was freedom. If I had been able to save my own life, I would have spent it as a stray, starving in alleys, but I didn't care. It would be than life as a hostage. I had been raised by a rat and mauled by dogs, but none of that mattered. Never again would I be anyone's victim.

Slowly dying of the wounds administered by the royal guard dogs, I went to Baker Street. I wanted to find Toby and tell him how happy I am that Basil escaped the trap and saved Queen Moustoria's life. I want to tell him I will never again eat another mouse. In fact, I will never again eat any small animals. I want to tell him that I wish to be a good cat and not his enemy.

Toby hasn't come, but I'm still waiting for him. I hope he arrives soon. I have so much to tell him, but I'm running out of time. I don't want to die a criminal. I want to live and become a good citizen.

I fear my desires will never be obtained. It's too late.

Wait! What's this? Dare I hope…?

Toby! He's here! Now I can talk to him, and then I can die in peace! I can't think of a better ending, but I'll have to talk fast. I can barely breathe.

That must be Toby's human. What's he doing? It's almost as if he's trying to…


	8. Epilogue:  June 23, 1897

**Epilogue: June 23, 1897**

I thought all hope was lost last night, but as the first rays of dawn touched my face, I woke up. Waking up could only mean one thing. I was alive. I _am_ alive!

"Felicia! You're alright!"

I turned to see who was speaking to me. "Toby?!"

He explained, "My human friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, saw you out the window. At first he didn't think anything of it, but then he remembered that Mrs. Hudson has been saying she wants a cat. He brought you inside and asked Dr. Watson to help you. Watson wasn't sure he'd be able to take care of a cat since all his patients have been humans, but apparently whatever he did for you worked."

"Toby, am I dreaming?"

"No, you're awake. You have a second chance at life now, Felicia. You can have your own human companion, and if you renounce your life of crime, you could probably have friends eventually. I personally don't believe you're wicked; it's just the way Ratigan raised you. You could still change for the better. I know it."

I'm sure Toby will never understand why I hugged him. Mrs. Hudson seems so nice. I'm sure I will be happy now and have a good life, which I intend to live to the fullest.


End file.
